James
by takocos
Summary: Backstory on one of your favorite Rocket Grunt.  Mature audiences only.


Sometimes, life really does just hand you something for free. Sometimes, there's just an adorable kid at a bar whose a little to shitfaced to know what's going on and you just happen to be his type. Sometimes you've got money and you can see he's completely strapped. Sometimes you've had that same fake smile plastered on enough times to recognize it. Sometimes, you get lucky.

Giovanni smiled. He wasn't wearing anything to let anyone know who he was. His ring was turned so that the gold band rested against the world while the onyx was clenched warmly in his skin. Black suit. Dressed down, for him.

Kid had purple hair. Nothing more adorable then a punk- shoulder-length purple hair, falling down his face and concealing it. He'd seen kids like that before- using it as some kind of shield to cover his metaphysical face- paint on his nails; eyeliner- Giovanni laughed- the kid was either gay or one of those idiots who thought he could convince women he understood them because he bought a belt. Either way, he'd be an easy catch. Green eyes- real green- you didn't see that much. Waiting tables- in a sexy kitty costume. He danced to- but he wasn't on stage right now.

Giovanni motioned for him to come near, kid caught his eye- the fake smile, and sashayed over to him. "Get me a bottle of Bourbon and sit down," Giovanni's fake smile was less reassuring and more intimidating.

"Yes, sir," The youth smiled, but he also blushed, and trembled as he bowed and walked away.

He had seen that kid before- when he had been on-campus at his old prep-school; not a cheap place. At the time, he had been in full regalia, walking with his 'business' contacts, but he thought he remembered him now, one among many in those damned uniforms- so why was a kid who could afford that place working here?

Either an exploitable sob story- or he was pissing off his parents.

The youth came back with the tray, glasses, and the bottle, and sat down. His facade was shaking. No grunts with the composed boss- they didn't need to know about this place- they would probably find out soon, but not tonight.

"I think I know you," Giovanni's voice was smooth, but the comment was as off-putting as he had meant for it to be.

By the time the youth spoke, his voice was shaking though he had obviously been trying to settle it, "A lot of people seem to know me. I'm thinking of cutting my hair and changing my name."

"What is your name?" The gentleman asked, sliding his ring around and taking another drink.

"My friends call me Jimmy," the boy was doing his damnedest for one who was so obviously not used to this.

"Jim ?" Giovanni fished, seeing that it wasn't going to be that easy, leaned down to be more eye-level with his new catch, "I only ask because I think I saw you at Viridian Springs, and you seem nervous- and I was wondering what in the world someone like you would be doing working here. Thought I'd get you off the floor for a few minutes."

"Morgan," Jimmy smiled, "James Morgan- please don't tell people that I'm working here."

"I won't- have a drink, relax."

"Thank you," he drained it- he had the 'poor-little-rich-boy' accent and everything! Giovanni tried to place him- he was obviously old money; Morgan- the wool company? The textiles company that produced fabric for everything on 4 continents.

"Morgan of the textile tycoons?" He tried to keep his tone relaxed, "Why work here at all if you don't want people to know?"

"Please?" he offered his glass, so the Boss was left to wonder if he meant more booze, or the potential blackmail.

"Does the owner know something on you?" He laughed.

"No- look- I appreciate it, but... I've been through a lot of shit recently, and I really don't want to talk about it dressed like a kitten. I... don't think I can."

Giovanni refilled the glass. "Trying to piss your parents off?" He smiled, strangely charismatic.

"My parents are already pissed off," the youth actually smiled, "I don't think that they could get any more pissed off."

"Disowned you?"

He offered his empty glass again- stupid, or desperate-and Giovanni filled it, "Disinherited me. It's different. Means they could put me back if I decided to straiten up and fly right."

"Hm..." Giovanni thought, "Not that I bet they were ever happy anyway."

Jim seemed to notice the ring for the first time, "You um... come from money to?" His voice had stopped shaking- odd, that realization was probably the only thing he should have been afraid of.

"Shipped off to school at the academy during the fall, then shipped off the camp in the summer-the few times you are actually there, she's to concerned with her fucking business to pay any attention to you, unless you're doing something that she feels she needs to bitch about,"

"So then they even tire of that," Jim continued where his captor had left off, "And decide that all you need is more _fucking _control. I **hate** that bitch- I'll die- literally die!" he slammed his empty glass down- kid could drink, Giovanni had not expected that, "Before I marry that bitch!"

Giovanni smiled- his parents weren't looking for him yet. He had had a falling out with his family. Good. Perfect timing. Keep him drinking- might try vodka next. Might not need to.

"Do you really want to stay here?" He looked down at the youth, "Do you have street clothes?"

"Where?" He started, obviously hadn't expected the questions.

"Somewhere other then here. Two evils. You know one- You don't know the other. Sense of adventure." He took another drink, his voice never losing that smooth yet powerful tone.

It didn't take him long. James downed the last glass, nodded, and responded, "I have street clothes."

"I'll be outside in the parking lot. You won't be able to miss me."

James was wracked with confusion. This was a bad decision. Something in the pit of his stomach knew that it was a horrible, horrible decision, but something drove him on. He deserved... something, and after everything he had gone through already, being raped and murdered, or whatever was about to happen, wasn't actually that bad. Life had gotten to that crux where no matter what it handed him next- he was going to take it. He didn't actually have much. Never used real money- and his credit-card had stopped working. School uniforms, a backpack, a cell phone that his parents had been ringing off the hook until he had smashed it- he unclipped the ears and tail but didn't really change somuchas he threw real clothes over the underwear he wore at work. Brushed out his hair, grabbed his backpack and left. You couldn't think about it. If he thought about it- he wouldn't do it.

The man he had been talking to was standing outside a limo. Black. Tinted windows. Limos like his parents would have. He took a deep breath. This man was not here to return him to his parents. Not the same kind of dread. He couldn't explain how he knew. Part of it might've been the driver. They were both leaned up against the side of the car, smoking cigarettes and laughing. The driver wore all-black, with a driver's hat and everything, very professional- but his hair stuck out at odd angles under it- bright green. He couldn't have been older then Jim was- and he realized that he was starting to get a little creeped out the closer he got to them.

"See, bitch, I told you he would come. You lose." Giovanni smiled at the youth.

"I never bet against ya, boss," he smiled back- his voice was gruff; a pack-a-day voice that didn't match his pretty face. He slid forward, his cigarette in the side of his mouth, and held the door open. Giovanni ducked and slid elegantly inside. He saw Jim's reluctance, and added, "You smoke?" offering the pack to him.

"Not really," James shook his head.

"Come on kid," the driver indicated with his head, "The Boss is waitin' on you."

Jim steeled his resolve, and walked to the car. As he had just bent to get inside, the driver put a hand to his chest and pulled him back up- in his personal space, making him even more uncomfortable, "Hey, kid, it's alright. It's not bad at all once you get past the taste. Don't be nervous."

With the slight-of-hand of a pickpocket, he slid a cigarette behind Jim's ear. He closed the door behind them. And the youth was left all alone in the car, sitting next to the man who might be his salvation- or who might hand him right back to his parents.

Oooh- there was a minibar.

Giovanni was still smoking the cigar he had when he climbed inside. He poured more Bourbon and handed James a glass, then poured one for himself.

"Ignore Butch," he laughed, "So, James- tell me why I'm helping you."

"I was wondering that same thing," James sighed, "I don't remember you- but I know that emblem- it's on every gun in every case in every house I've ever owned." He took another drink, "Please... you aren't taking me back to my parents are you?"

He could hear Butch laughing from behind the sealed window separating the driver from the occupants- Jim suddenly realized that he couldn't see out the side of the car. Mistake or adventure, he was on it now.

"You travel with no protection," Giovanni sighed, "You're worth a fortune- no guns, no animals, nothing. Why?"

"I gave up," James sighed, "If people want to kidnap me, let them. If they want to kill me, let them. I've checked out. I don't care anymore."

"No reward out for your return," Giovanni thought it over, "Yet. You could be a very valuable hostage."

"Maybe," James shrugged his shoulders.

"What could you have possibly done- the only child of one of the world's most affluent families- to land you where you are?" the boss snickered, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his jacket.

"It's a long story," James sighed again, his eyes were drooping, he was blushing, and he was starting to slur a little, "But the... um... bullet point is- don't let your parents set you up with a Dominatrix. When you're a little fucking kid!" he spit the last sentence out, "Nothing- **nothing **about that situation is good for you!"

He started crying.

Giovanni tossed the jacket to his side and flicked his ashes. He took another long drag and undid his cufflinks.

"The Morgans," Giovanni laughed, "How old?"

"Sorry," Jim dried his tears with the side of his shirt, "I'm getting tipsy- I really didn't mean to do that."

"It's fine. Here." Giovanni refilled his drink- the kid was shaking so badly he was having a hard time holding it, but not the awkward, nervous shaky- the kind where the alcohol was beginning to run through his body and just loosen his limbs shaking. A good sign. "So," he repeated, "How old were you when your parents set you up with this girl?"

"I dunno... Christmas- I was home on Christmas break when I was like... 10, I think. Yeah, 10- because you had to be 10 to get registered and I finally got Growlie. He was the first one registered to me..."

"So," his host recounted, "You hooked up with this girl when you were ten? Damn kid- you beat me."

"Yes, well," Jimmy had lost all sense of decency- he was finally beginning to get some effects, "Bitch was **crazy**. First thing she did was demand I get rid of Growlie- fuck that! Not getting rid of my dog because she's a bitch! So I was like, 'Fuck you bitch!" and I ran the hell out of there- and she fucking follows me, back to my house screaming at me- first thing."

"So my parents," he went on, "Have set up this whole-thing, with her parents, about the money. When I turned 18, we were supposed to get married, and she- her family, would use the leverage from their company to where the two of us would stand to inherit a textiles and factory farming fortune. A monopoly that the courts couldn't count, apparently, for our love-"

"And by 'our love'" he continued, "I mean Belle's love for _my _money. I hate her. I really do. I didn't at first. I hated what she represented- I hated the way that my parents use me for a... like a genetic placeholder- like I'm an idiot who needs to be corralled like a mareep!"

_Which is why you're in a strangers car, drunk off your ass._ The boss thought, but kept quiet while the boy spoke.

"So... maybe two or three years later she started in with this baby-crazy shit!" Jimmy was visibly angry now, "And she seriously... the most fucked up part is..." he couldn't finish, he had started crying again.

"You don't have to go back," Giovanni smiled over his glass, his tie now hanging on either side of his neck, his sleeves rolled up, his head lolled back- he looked the picture of a businessman trying to relax, he took another long drag on his cigar and propped his feet up, crossed, on the other side of the car, between James and the mini-bar. "What do you know about weapons, Jimmy?"

"I can shoot," James shrugged, taking another drink, realizing his glass was empty, he sat it down in a cup holder and tried to hold his head together. To much. He had let himself go to far. "I used to hunt with my grandfather when I was younger. My father... actually my father was always big on weapons, on learning to use them;"

"What do you know about crime?" The boss uncrossed his ankles and stretched, when he settled in, he had an ankle on either side of James, trapping him even farther in the already sealed, windowless (well, for all practical purposes) car.

"Things about embezzling, fair-trade violations, and workers and animal rights side-steps," he sighed, slumped his shoulders, "More about sex-slavery then I ever wanted to know."

"Sounds interesting," Giovanni laughed, then added, "Animal rights violations... Morgans... hmmm..." he thought for a second, then snuffed out his cigar, which was little more then a nub, "Tell you what, kid- prove to me that I can trust you, and I'll give you a way out. I'll give you the way out that I had to take the hard-way."

"You're... gonna give me job?" James seemed confused, reluctant, excited- more emotions then he really had room for in the alcohol-drowned brain of his.

"Maybe," the boss smiled, "If I have a need that you can fill. I can't create jobs out of thin air, James."

"If you can protect me- keep them from finding me," his enthusiasm won out, "I'll do anything! Just keep her away from me! What do you need?"

"We all have needs, James," The boss, _his boss_ smiled, and motioned for the youth to come forward.

James looked at his empty glass, to the man before him, to his position, ran a hand through his hair, and got down on his knees in the floor between the seats.

"Hang back a sec," Butch kept his hand on the new recruit's chest, "Can we take a smoke break real quick boss?"

Giovanni was straitening his sleeve, complete composure regained, as the guards- literal guards, men in black, parted to let him through. "Bring him, personally, to my office."

"Wanna smoke it now?" Butch asked, as he opened the door to the Driver's seat, "Sit where-ever you want, you don't look to sobered up."

"Not really," James sighed, opened the door to the more comfortable back-seat space, "So... Bitch?"

The screen between them slid open, "My name's Butch- he calls me that because he knows it pisses me off! Wouldn't be so fucking bad if everyone else didn't do it to." He rolled his eyes, "It's really not that fuckin' funny. So- wanna buzz out in the boss's car before you go?"

James's eyes open wide, "Why? What do you have?"

"Hold on a sec, I'm gonna come back there."

The screen between them rolled up, and when Butch opened the door to get in, Jim caught a brief glance at the inside of a parking structure. He looked really nervous.

"Ok, look man- I look back at when I was in the exact same place that you were- and do you know what I find myself thinking- _every-time_?" Butch paused as he reached down, unclipped a purple and white ball, held it up between their faces, hit a button, and it expanded between them to twice it's size, "This next part woulda' been so much easier- if I were high."

"Next part?" James was shaking.

"Yeah," Butch sighed, "Anyway- make sure all the windows and shit are rolled up," he moved around the cab quickly, making sure there was an airtight seal, and threw the ball to the ground. He lay across the seat that James wasn't using, resting his hand across the head of a gently mewing creature, a small flower bud standing, swaying crazily on root legs- looking like it wanted to be planted, "Sweet scent," he begged the creature.

It murmered happily, and took a deep breath. When it exhaled, Butch inhaled deeply- James, it took a second. By the time he realized what was going on, the cab was absolutely coated in a layer of pink pollen- everything had a slightly pinkish glow. Butch was laughing.

"See," he asked, cuddling the bellsprout in his arms, "This shit hits you fast!"

He sat up, and when he did, another cloud rose with him, hitting James in the face and making his eyes water. Everything was beginning to feel warm and fuzzy though...

"I knew about it, but I've never done it," James sighed.

"Hey Sprout?" Butch hugged it closer, "How about another sweet scent?"

James inhaled properly as the cab filled once again with the pink powder.

"Stun spore- I have such a high tolerance for stun spore anymore," James sighed, and leaned back, releasing a little pink cloud.

"Yeah, and we can talk about that- but later. You can't keep him waiting." Butch opened the door. They stepped out into a pink cloud.

Butch swiped a card that could have been an employee ID, and a door opened from the garage into a bigger infostructure. As they rode an elevator, he laid his arm against the wall and slammed his head against it, "Aw FUCK!"

"What?" James asked, taken aback.

"We need to go inside and come around the front- but I bet he doesn't want me to do that- to get to the Boss's office from the front entrence, the gym, you just have to go through the gym, down a flight of stairs, but now I gotta take you up there and I am way to high to solve that fucking teleporty thing- fuck that. Maybe he's in his downstairs office- motherfuck, I hope so, hold on?"

He flipped a cell phone open, "Att? You workin the door? You know which office the boss went to? Oh, thank-fucking-god, man." He turned back to James, "Gym's closed. Long day-long day. Hey, I'll talk to you when you get this shit all figured out. Come on- we can by-pass allmost all the security shit- you ever been through a teleporter?"

"Are you shitting me?" James asked, as they stepped into a corridor, and the door behind them slid and dissapeared. There was nothing but shiny crystal floors, celing, walls- were all some kind of reflective marble. There were statues inset exactly every 2 inserts of persians on pedistals. Someone had a favorite pet. There was no indication of where they were.

"Come on," Butch laughed, "I think I remember how to get there from here, and it's only 2 turns. And if it's Attila, we're there and if it's not, we're not." He shrugged and started down the hall- James scurried after him.

They hall just ended- a mirror took up the length of the wall and made it appear even longer, but there were no doors to be seen. James had been right behind his new friend, so allmost hit him when he abruptly stopped, "Ah, man," he sighed as he looked into the mirror, "I look fuckin'-"

And they began to float. The image in the mirror behind them seemed to change ever so slightly, though the hall itself was the same, there was now someone standing in it. He wore a black uniform- the same as Butch's, with the red "R" emblazoned down the front, taking the entire chest. James scrambled off the teleporter, the alcohol still dragging him down, and slowly picked himself up.

"High," Butch finished, smiling at the man in uniform, "Thank god. Who's at the door?"

"Dunno," Attila shrugged, "I been standing here listening to headphones the whole night- no one comes by night shift. New recruit?" He pegged James.

Att reminded Jim very much of the people who used to work on his parent's estates- especially with the animals- he was gruff, but pleasant- huge and imposing, and was probably an excelent bodyguard or- whatever the hell it was he was doing. So, not being the one guarded, he was scared as shit when addressed.

"I guess so," James shrugged, letting the pleasant afterglow of the sweet scent convince him. "Nothing's set in stone."

"Weird place to say that," Butch looked around the marble hall, "I'll stop on my way out- wanna tell you somethin' sweet."

And they stepped onto another teleporter. And the scenery changed this time, completely. Dark wooden walls, a deep red carpet, a reception hall, and a deep-set door with another electric lock. Butch scanned his card and stepped inside.

Everything in the office spoke of excess-

"Jimmy," James floated in off a cloud. His head was pounding, "Jimmy,"

He tried to speak, but a cloth through his mouth kept him from making anything more then a muffled yelp of surprize.

"James?" the voice repeated, "You awake, buddy?"

_Bullshit_! James's mind screamed at him as he tried to move his hands and noticed they were restricted by handcuffs. He couldn't open his eyes. Blindfold. _Bullshit_!

"_jhffyvll- vy svear vu fwad," _he muttered, as he slipped his arms over his knees to push away whoever was behind him. He managed to brace his back against something- a wall. He was sitting on a bed. He reached up and yanked off the blindfold, ripped down the gag, and finished, "You evil bitch- I'll!"

"My name," the boy in front of him hissed-

"Butch!" James exclaimed happily, "get me out of here! I can't believe he put me in bondage after everything I told him," he added, chocking back tears.

"Wha- why, what did you tell him?" Butch was blushing.

"Butch!" James slammed back against him.

"Dude, I thought it would be funny. Didn't think it was a sore spot." He laughed, "There was real fear in your eyes when you jerked that down. What the fuck you so scared of?"

"Sorry," James sighed.

Butch's bellsprout mewed happily as he went back to tending it. It licked him with a vine-like tonge, and danced inside the planter it had embedded itself in up the waist. Butch laughed and ticked it, then readjusted a lamp, black with a red r, by the base so that it pointed away from the critter. It was a sunlamp- James realized when it hit him. Butch covered the plant with a black case.

"Ready?" he asked- the creature exclaimed happily from within.

Butch plugged a hose into the case, and removed a capsule from his bag. He attached the other end to the capsule, and pressed the button. Inside, the plant screamed in job.

"What are you doing?" James was ringing his hand through his hair.

"He's doin' attack up." Butch smiled, "concentraited, just like my baby likes it. We're gonna give im a minute, and then we're gonna wake&bake on some of the best Sweet Scent known to man. Ain't that right, Sprout?"

It exclaimed in response.

"So, you into plant-types?" Butch directed the question to the youth still trying to get accustomed to his surrounding, "Oh, you got some more clothes- grunt shit, I'll take you down to the shower's later- right now I thought you might have a hell-of-a-headache."

"Yes," James sighed, "Thank you."

Butch lifted the case- the creature was already forming pink spores in anticipation. Butch petted it, and it released without being told. James was staring at the room- it looked like a normal bedroom. The desk with a laptop and the planter on it, posters, a closet half-closed- not neat by any standards- Butch's room. But there were to closets, two beds- like his room back at school- wait; was he going to be Butch's roommate? That was actually one of the better places he could have woken up- he breathed a sigh of relief. And took in a huge dose of sweet scent.

His headache began to subside.

"So seriously, what's the heir to a factory farm fortune doin' in Team Rocket?" Butch laid on the bed across from him, pushed to the other side of the wall, the desk and the bellsprout, still dancing, between them.

"Series of crazy events," James sighed.

"So, whatcha doing man? I noticed your belt's empty." Butch leaned on one arm to light a cigarette, "Why you wanderin around defenseless? You gotta have a starter."

"Oh fuck!" James pounded his head back when the realization hit him, "My parents have Growlie! If that bitch does anything to my puppy," he clenches his fist, narrowed his eyes- Butch nodded to the plant, and the pollen flew from it again.

"Who?" Butch smiled as he inhaled deeply.

"My feonce- she hates that dog; I think because it's _my _dog, you know. That chick is weird- she's the reason my parents abandoned me- and the reason that Jess doesn't talk to me anymore- she's consistently fuck-up every good thing in my life."

"Yeah!" Butch slammed a fist into the air, "Let's go kill your girlfriend and steal your dog!"

"That's not as easy or as... ethical as you think it is," James stared at him, uneasy about his enthusiasm.

"Ethical," Butch laughed, stood, and cuddled his critter, "We're beyond ethics at this point, Jim. We live in a world where everything is being exploited- people, critters; by someone. We're all in the dark- but the boss- we got some huge shit goin on Jimmy- we're the bright light in that darkness. I'm actually glad you're here- now I can apply to be a field agent."

"A field agent?" James asked, his eyelids heavy, the edges of his vision blurred.

"Yeah- all this shit, the room, the food, all the other shit I'm gonna show you- is free to grunts. But you can move up to 'field agent' and get a stipin-"

"What's that?" James asked, "Like, a trust fund stipend?"

"Gonna have to take your word on that, buddy," Butch never let the smile fade, "But the real part is that you'll be making a difference. We're gonna take down Siph-Co. We're gonna change the world. We're gonna expose the truth. And I'm gonna be there on the front lines."

"Damn, this shit kicks in fast," James stared at the room. Everything was covered in those red 'R's on black backgrounds- even the bedsets. Where did he have all this shit made? Team Rocket was a secret terrorist orginization- HOLY SHIT- it just hit him. Team Rocket was an ecoterrorist organization. He had just joined Team Rocket! What the FUCK was he thinking!

"You ok there, buddy?" Butch asked, flicking his ashes into the planter.

"I just joined a FUCKING TERRORIST organization!"

"heh," Butch laughed, as the bellsprout ran it's tounge down his face. "Sometimes you have to break a few eggs. People need to wake up. This shit ain't good Jim. The boss says that the gods shoulda' put a stop to it by now."

"What are you talking about?" James was trying to wrap his head around what he had somehow fallen into.

"Jimmy- everyone knows that a few generations ago- there weren't any Pokemon. There were animals. But they didn't all share baseline DNA like pokemon do- they couldn't interbreed like they can, and they didn't evolve as fast. Have you ever seen one?"

"My matriarchial grandmother had a canary," James paused in thought, "It kept getting sick. And there's not really anything you can do for them- potions don't work and centers won't see them."

"And then the critters we know and love- just magically appear? And suddenly Sammy Oak's on the cover of every magazeen pimping the idea that the mutagen came from fucking space? Does he think wer'e all that guliable?" Butch ran his fingers through the bellsprout's vines.

"I haven't really read much into it," James sighed, "I think I remember something about the clefairy coming from space."

"Did you know that clefairy share something like 80% of their genes with squirrles?"

"I don't know what that is," James shrugged.

"It's- a rodent, that used to live around here. The clefairy are evolved from it. Pokemon are normal animals that have been manipulated- from a mutagen- created by a madman- the ultiment global ecoterrorism attack- it's led to a complete reimagining of the world that we never knew, Jimmy- and for some reason, Oak has EVERYBODY BUYING IT! No one's called him on it- not once. This guy has been handing dragons to preteens for years and there's not a government in the world touching him? A charizard who obeys without thought it a bio-weapon- and Oak's completely changed the world. And made a fortune."

"Um... ok..." James sighed- Butch was obviously passionate about this.

"Brainwashed generations of kids to think that it's fine to keep sentient creatures bottled up, make them fight until they can't move- that's not how I treat my Sprout. He deserves better. Do you not know anything about the Rocket Gang before you joined up?" He glared at his new roommate.

"Not really," James admitted, "I know that they've attacked our farms before- I heard my parents talking about it. They stole a whole spring crop of mareep,"

"Yeah, we did," Butch hissed, "They're roaming free-range, the chips and number replaced now. You don't huddle hundrads of them together so thick they can't lay down and shoot them full of power- that's part of what we're fighting against."


End file.
